A fool's word

It is a word that
Has no
relevance. Still,
You will hear it:
“He survived
UNSCATHED.”
But it
Is a lie
Perpetrated
But those who know
No better.
Or, worse, those
Who want us to think
That the anger
And hell of war
Is somehow
Avoidable,
Can be sidestepped,
Maybe even pushed
Into a vacuum
And sealed into
A soul.
Dodge the RPG
That cuts the corporal
In half.
Unscathed?
Feel the Humvee
Explode,
The ground
Shudder and give,
See the night grow
Red from the flames
And deafening
From the screams.
Unscathed?
Your choice:
Shoot or
Don’t shoot.
Even the right
decision.
Unscathed?
That which scars
The brain is not
Always visible to
Those other than
Ourselves.
You know fear.
Terror.
Hell’s fire.
And you have
No choice.
Five months ago
You were the
Gridiron star
At Whiskey Notch
High.
Or the office manager
At State Farm.
Now, you’re not.
And now you’re about
To be mortally wounded,
Whether you’re hit
Or not.
Not all of you
Will come out
Alive.
And some of you won't die.
Unscathed?
It’s a fool’s word